


As You Wish

by Fandora



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bondage, Cunnilingus, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, rated mostly because I used fuck like a comma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6382429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandora/pseuds/Fandora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I would like you to meet Ryan, a Tevinter blood slave (why use your own when you can use someone else's.) Trained in the erotic arts he has lived in luxury his entire life, never forced into manual labor but also, he's never had the freedom to say no. His life has been dedicated to pleasing his mistress, and her guests seeing to their every need, learning to read their desires before they have them.  </p><p>That is until his mistress has him at the temple of sacred ashes the day it blows up. His freedom is short lived when he finds himself chained to a floor, with a green hand, and a pissed off Seeker. Scrambling in a world he's never really lived in, trying to become what they need, when they need it most. While he is talented in the bedroom, that doesn't serve him well against bears in the hinterlands.  Will it work? maybe will he live through it hopefully...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The hands that bind

He knelt naked, at her feet, fists pressed into the floor. As his bronzed hairless body glistened with oil, flesh appearing unmarred. That's what the dark tattoo bands covering his thick biceps, wrists, ankles and thighs were for, when the shackles rubbed to the bone. The ink hid his numerous scars keeping the illusion of perfection, even decadence with the scroll patterns. 

His cock hung lifeless between his legs, pierced tongue running along the smooth large metal hoop that ran through the bottom of his jaw and curled around the front of his lip. His strange red eyes staring at her shoes, she was wearing the gold pair today, she favored them this week. He knew every pair of shoes she owned, had memorized them from the countless hours he spent in this exact position at her side. He was her pet, her vessel, carrying in his veins the thick rich liquid. His mistress was wise, she only cut her blood slave along the thick black lines when she needed his contribution to her spells. 

His mistress enjoyed his body at her will, He was lucky to have her, she gifted him with the knowledge of literacy so he could read her poetry as she bathed. She also had him trained in the arts of obedience and pleasure, following her orders instantly and without question. When she willed it, he was given to other females or put on display for others to admire as he was being done now. 

Lifting his face to meet her gaze she hooked her finger through the large metal hoop that protruded from his chin, it had the illusion of going through his jaw but was really just pierced through his lip and curled under his chin resting against his lower jaw. But make no mistake it was solid well attached and got his attention when she pulled on it. Hooking her jeweled leash to it, her hand caressed his smooth head tugging on the leash “Come, my kitten it's time for bed” Following without question he knew what was to come next, willing his body to cooperate or she would use things to force his submission. It was getting harder and harder to perform and he was finding himself shackled on display more and more while his body rebelled. 

Chained to her bed trying to will his lifeless cock into action she looked annoyed, grabbing the hoop in his lip jerking his face forward “fill me, or I will find another who will.” Biting back a scream as she ran electricity through his tender sac, stroking him to life. Her wanton flesh poised over his. 

Ryan bit back the scream, pursed on the precipice of his lips, it took him a minute for the fog to clear. He was naked but covered in blankets... on the stone floor in.... Haven. Sighing, his body relaxed eyeing the room, the unused bed taunting him, with his demons still dancing behind his eyes.

Rubbing a hand over his face, the glowing green mocking him, he had traded one mistress for another, there would be no freedom found at the feet of the Inquisition. Resting his forehead on his knees, taking deep breaths, he had been in Haven just over 2 months… Two fucking months since he was at the temple. Because of the nature of the place, he was permitted to wear clothes, not many, but it was a luxury he was only given when outside of their home. 

He remembered the feeling of silk on his skin, she had trusted him to be obedient and didn't use her leash, had she done so he couldn't have reacted when he heard the screams. Instead, when the cries came from the door he stood beside, he flung it open to help. The rest as Varric would say, they will write about for centuries.

It was at the feet of his new mistress that Ryan was born. Seeker Pentaghast had him shackled in a familiar position, there was comfort in the familiar, but she was demanding his name. Panic welling up in him, his need to please transferred to his new captor, fearing she would take his inability to answer as a sign of disrespect he panicked. The mistress had never called him a name, just kitten or pet, and he would go to the fade before he used them ever again. When she forced him to look at her there was a name scratched into the stone, he could just make it out, blurting out the only name he could “Ryan, my name is Ryan. I have no last.” 

For the last two months, he had done everything they asked of him… kill bears, he picked up a sword and swung like a crazy man. Varric called his warrior form drunken druffalo, what he didn't hit he just trampled. Working with Cullen, he was a little better but he was still mostly brute force. Make people like the Inquisition, he could do that, he had done it his whole life… after an embarrassing conversation with Mother Giselle, he learned HOW he was supposed to do that, he still blushed every time he walked by her, the cheeky woman just winked at him. 

Recruit agents, he learned if, he couldn't bed them ... Persuasion and Intimidation worked rather well. He still thought his first way was better, but Josey explained to him that if he did that. Then it would cause more issues than it solved. 

He was their puppet “Dance Ryan Dance, you're free but do this... You're free but don't do that, you're free, but oh yea you have to save the fucking world.” 

Throwing off the blanket there would be no more sleep tonight, he still wasn't accustomed to clothing and hated his armor, but just that morning Josie had begged him to at least wear pants. Tugging on the plaid weave, he clucked his tongue at the bird in the basket her wing had been broken, and he was helping her heal, in fact looking around his room there were a lot of animals that were healing, the largest of them being a hala he was keeping in the stables. 

Leliana joked because his pockets were always full of creatures he had to do a pocket check before he sat down. Strolling through the camp the chill in the air making the metal hoops in his nipples cold. 

Cassandra was sitting by the fire at her tent, joining her he leaned forward and saw she was reading poetry by an author he knew well Christina Rossetti. Closing his eyes, his low timber filled the air.

“I loved you first: but afterwards your love  
Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song  
As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.  
Which owes the other most? my love was long,  
And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;  
I loved and guessed at you, you construed me  
And loved me for what might or might not be –  
Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.  
For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’  
With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,  
For one is both and both are one in love:  
Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’  
Both have the strength and both the length thereof,  
Both of us, of the love which makes us one.” 

Opening his eyes he smiled at her and winked, getting up he continued on his way.

He enjoyed tormenting the seeker, she was the kind of woman who would have swooned at his feet once upon a time, and he was enjoying familiarity in the power. The newness of being able to choose who he gifted with his attentions, something he had longed for in those cold nights chained to the floor. 

The predawn hours found him sparring with a training dummy dressed only sleeping breeches, and they were riding low on his hips. Cullen couldn't figure out what the fade all the women of the camp were doing around his sparring ring till he saw him. Half naked, covered in sweat hacking at the dummy like a man possessed. 

It was if he just realized that he was being watched, turning around he sheathed his sword picking up a towel nodding to the various people, as he made a hasty retreat. 

Damn it he had lost track of time, he only meant to be there for an hour or so, but he got lost in the rhythm. He needed an outlet, something he could find his release in, before it had always been sex. He had given his all to pleasuring his partners, even though they were never of his choosing, he still loved the act of giving pleasure, it was one of the few ways he felt in power watching his lover come undone in his arms. But what was he looking for? Was it love, a relationship or did he just need a willing participant? Did he want a man or a woman, or both? And who would be willing to be pursued? Cullen was very attractive but he was as straight as the day was long, Leliana while she had a hard exterior like Cassandra beneath all the prickle was a woman built for a forever love, if that's not what he wanted then he needed to not even try. The Iron bull held promise, but he just didn't feel it. Josey…maybe… 

Bounding through the main hall of the chantry he made a note of the nobles and random people, but none held his interest. He was due at the war table shortly needing to change before the meeting.

They demanded he makes the choice, didn't they know he had never made a fucking choice in his life, right down to the time he slept every night it was never his choice. Now here he stood on the edge of war, with them asking him to make a choice that could bring the end of days. Shit! 

Spinning a marker on the wooden surface, he was mentally flipping a coin, saying over and over in his head Mage or Templar, Mage or Templar. Both were in his opinion, unstable crazy fuckers, so it like choosing between getting kicked in the balls on the left side or the right, either way this was going to hurt. “After our little adventure to Val Royeaux, it seems like the Mages want to work with us the most.” He held up his hand pointing at Cullen “You don't need to say it, you have made your position clear, you don't trust the Mages. Well, the Templar aren't exactly stable either, the way I see it at least with the Mages, they came to us, we didn't have to suck their cocks to get them to the table.” Cullen looked shocked “I assure you we wouldn't, I mean it, anyhow I just want you to understand the consequences of a wrong choice.”

Nodding Ryan’s eyes scanned the map, tapping the marker against his lips, finally slamming it down on Redcliffe “Mages.” 

Cutting Cullen’s protest off before it left his lips, “it's not a bad choice Commander, it's simply not your choice. If you don't like it, overrule me and change it, like all good slaves, you will find I follow orders very well. Or if I'm this equal you all claim I am, then trust me and have faith.” 

He stared into those Amber eyes as they glared back into his red ones unflinching all he could think of was, Maker, please don't let me be wrong!

The whole Mage debacle had almost been a Cullen “I told you so.” With travels through time, and the vision of what will be if he fails, cuz ya, like his own thoughts weren't bad enough, he had to have a vivid adventure in, this sucks land. 

The one shining thing from it all was he met Dorian, again… he wasn't sure the Mage knew who he was, he looked a little different this time, you know the whole not naked and chained to a slab with his cock in the air is a much different look than what he was sporting now, clothes, green hand, free will, you know the small things. 

But he knew Dorian, he had memorized the man's face, he was the only person that had been offered the use of his body and said “I like to be tied up as much as the next man. Thank you for the offer but no, I want my partners willing.”

With the help of the mages they had closed the rift, he was standing on the ledge talking to Cassandra as all of Haven rejoiced, the deal he had made with the Mages pissed off a lot of people but he didn't care, he wouldn't enslave anyone. They, hopefully given the chance like everyone else would make the right choice. He opened his mouth to say something about retiring for the night when warning bells started to ring and the world fell apart again. 

Before Cullen could say much more than I don't know, there was a plea at the gates “I can't come in unless you open.” a small sickly man in an enormous floppy hat, fell through the entrance when the gate was opened. “I’m Cole, I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.” Ryan grabbed the boy “what is this? What's going on?” Cole was pointing up the mountain to the forces “The Templar's come to kill you.”

Shocked Cullen stammered, “Templar? Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the Mages? Attacking blindly?”

They watched as the Elder one stood beside Samson, Cole's words ringing in their ears “He’s furious that you took his Mages.”

Pointing a finger at Cullen, Ryan was pissed “this is what you call reasonable? They attack us because they weren't asked to dance? Give me a plan damn you! Anything!” 

The screams, the chaos, so much chaos people were being slaughtered at his feet as he ran for the trebuchet’s they fought hard but eventually they managed an avalanche. Ryan stood there watching, and then the dragon showed up. He wanted to scream you have to be fucking kidding me!!! But to many eyes were watching, he needed them to believe he would save them, running through Haven he saved as many as he could, he would mourn the loss later, providing he wasn't one of them.

The Idea came from Cole, well technically from Chancellor Roderick but Cole spoke the words for him, if they could evacuate through the summer passage, he could bring the mountain down hopefully killing whatever that thing was… He really didn't want to die, but He couldn't ask anyone else to do it, fear rocketed through him Maybe if he just gave him what he wanted… Looking around the plan was, well let's face it, it was suicide wrapped up in a blanket of fuck you. He might die but he was taking that asshole with him and his pet too. Watching as they all started heading to the tunnel, Ryan headed the opposite way Kicking open the door, wiping some of the gore off his blade on the stone wall “well… Andraste hates a coward… let's do this shit!”

Cullen told him to make some noise, he could do that “Alright asshole, you wanted me, here I am. Let's dance, but I promise you, you won't like the kiss I give you at the end of the song!”

The back of his head hurt, why was he sleeping in the snow, wait sitting up rubbing the back of his head “Shit! That's going to leave a mark.” Looking around Ryan couldn't believe it... He had somehow made it, standing up he did a fist pump and shouted “Oh yea, who survived an avalanche.” Feeling pretty sure of himself until he took a step forward and demons attacked him, reaching for his sword… and it was gone, thinking to himself this is going to suck, holding out his hand to ward off the attack the mark shot out and sucked them all into it. The green was fainter like it needed to charge before it could be done again. Moving quickly before more came he found himself in the snow trudging through, he could see signs that they had been here but nothing recent. 

Ryan collapsed in the drift, he didn't know how long he had been walking or if he was going in the right direction he just needed a minute, one minute to close his eyes and he would get back up again… wow, this snow wasn't so bad it was so comforta….

His mind registered before his body did, he was warm, why was he warm? How was he warm? and voices he could hear voices they were screaming at each other but that was sometimes commonplace in the mistresses palace, wait he recognized those voices… Cullen, Cassy… he wasn't a slave anymore. Everything came flooding back, rolling over him much like that AVALANCHE!! Holding his side he stepped from the tent, and they needed to calm down.

Wait, were they singing,? They were fucking singing… really? Right now is the time for a singalong. Maker these people were touched in the head.

The Hobo Elf told him of a place he could take them if it meant they would stop the singalong he was game. So onward they trudged, it took days but when they saw her, she was amazing, Skyhold. 

Walking through it, sifting through the rotted wood, crumbling walls, rats scurried, and the smell of decay permeated everything. 

Ryan and Ironbull were walking behind Josey and Leliana he elbowed Bull “hey Skyhold reminds me of a date I once had, she was good from afar, but far from good.” He cringed when he heard her telltale disgusted noise behind him, turning he grinned. “Seeker Pentaghast, I didn't see you there. My how lovely you look today is that a new hairstyle it's very nice.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, and he clutched his chest. “Seeker you doubt my sincerity, you wound me, I'm told I have a silver tongue.” He stuck it out and wiggled it at her earning him another rude gesture and noise.

Harrett and some red headed girl were hauling things into the main hall if you could even call it that yet. Cullen was pointing to a door saying there was a forge there. He watched them disappear into the far room on the right.

No rest for the wicked they say, he was out the door the next day taking care of loose ends in the Hinterlands. 

When he returned they made him Inquisitor, Smiling as he waved at the crowds all he could think of was... sure why not, he was only a former blood slave, who has no idea what the maker he's doing most days. Who needed help with his armor, both getting into and out of every day for a fucking week, but sure let's make him the leader of a controversial organization that's been branded heretics, how could this go wrong. He did get a kick ass sword out of the deal, though, and people cheered when he walked by, so that was fun and new. 

Weeks turned to months, and Skyhold turned into less of the shit hole, he was always amazed every time he walked back in the main hall after being on a campaign for weeks at how much Josie had managed to do. Every day at the start of the day he was terrified to step out of his room for fear they would scream slave or fraud, pointing at him and mocking him, dread filling him that he was an impostor and somehow he would screw this all up. Every Night when he climbed the stairs exhausted he was amazed that one more day he had managed to keep the charade up, he was certain one day Cassandra would just run him through for his smart mouth, but she was so passionate, and fun to torment, he couldn't help himself. 

His menagerie of wounded animals never stopped, he had lost his babies in Haven, but there was no shortage of them in Skyhold the cat with three legs, and a crooked tail had permanent residence on his throne, usually with a nug or 3. 

He had offers to fill his bed, but it was ironically Cullen that pulled him aside shortly after he became inquisitor and said. “I understand a man has needs, we all do. Skyhold isn't the place for casual romance. You want that take personal time and find it outside the walls the last thing The Inquisition needs is a string of jilted lovers.” For once he didn't have a smart ass comeback for the Commander he just nodded and went on his way.

Like most thing in his life, he slowly became accustomed to the workings of a huge operation such as the Inquisition, He still wasn't fond of crowds or large groups, he hated when prisoners were brought before him in shackles, it made his wrists and ankles itch. 

He was getting the hang of this warrior thing, the armor didn't make him feel like he was drowning, and wielding his sword was becoming second nature, so second nature he probably used it for things he shouldn't… like making kindling and he might have chopped down the tree, and possibly used the guard to pry out some iron in a rock, and the pommel was amazing at cracking open nuts and lock boxes. 

Needless to say, his sword was in bad need of repair, admittedly he didn't look after it as well as he should have but still, even by his standards it needed some attention. You would think you should be able to make some simple firewood for camp with it without it damaging the blade so much.

He took it to a smith in Val Royeaux and in Redcliff they both blanched at the state it was in, shaking their heads “Inquisitor, this is a Maggie O’Shea custom made blade, see here, this is her mark, it would be a sin for any hands to touch it, save hers. Though I don't relish the wrath, you will get from the fiery redhead, when she sees what you have done to her masterpiece.” 

Four people all told him the same thing. Finally giving up, he'd thought if anywhere he could find someone willing to do this it would be in the Exalted Plains at Fort Revasan when he turned him down he conceded, asking the man. “Fine, I will take it to her, what city is she in? What shop?” 

The blacksmith looked at him like he was crazy. “No disrespect inquisitor, but she's housed under your very own roof.” 

Shaking his head protesting “no my blacksmith is Harrett, stocky man big beard and mustache.” Nodding the man handed the sword back wanting to weep at what the Harold had done to such a piece of art, most people never got to see something that perfect in a lifetime let alone own one. “Maggie is his niece, she works alongside him red hair, freckles, huge smile, not very tall but can wield a hammer, as if the gods themselves willed her to have the talent. She can fold steel and stone, honing it to the perfect edge that will slice so clean with so little effort, your head is on the floor, and you are looking at your own feet before you know what happened.” 

Ryan squinted, he had gone and seen Harrett a week back, met Dagna… was there someone else there? Wait wasn't there a Dwarf or something over at the bellows? They were covered in dirt and soot “Is she dwarven?”

Laughing the man shook his head “No she's from Starkhaven.” 

Shaking his head Ryan took back the damaged weapon, “Hu… I've never heard of her.” 

The blacksmith nodded at the sword, “well when you get home, take this to her, I have no doubt you won't soon forget the young red headed lass. I just hope you survive it for all our sakes.”

Ryan laughed as he told Varric what the man said, the dwarf handed him a box of tiny cakes from Orlais, “Here, you're going to need this more than I will, just give them to her first.” 

Ryan couldn't stop laughing “Varric she's like five foot three tops, what's she going to do? Kick me in the knee?” Iron bull shuddered “you better hope no, she wears these boots with metal toes just in case she drops things on them, trust me they hurt, oh and don't mention to her that she's the right height and wouldn't even need to bend over if she gave you a bl...” 

Vivienne's voice cut him off “Don't you dare finish that sentence.” 

The Qunari’s head dropped “Sorry Ma'am.”

He strode through the main hall sword and cakes in hand, She was a woman, if there was one thing he was trained well it was women. 

He knew the words to say, the way to look at them, he knew the places to touch them his entire life had revolved around seeking out, and giving women the pleasure they sought. He could make her purr like a kitten she would be on her knees, asking him, if she could service him further. 

Dropping the box of cakes on Varric’s table as he strode by, he wouldn't need the treats. Please, he had made Queens and Empresses scream his name, surely to god he could handle one mousey blacksmith. 

Shaking his head Varric chuckled “this I got to see.” Grabbing the box, he ran to catch the show.

Nodding at Harrett and Dagna “Hello you two, I've come to talk to Maggie about my inferior sword. Is she here?”

Suddenly he realized that the sound of the bellows had stopped and that Harrett was suddenly very busy at his schematics table, and Dagna was across the room. “Maggie, uh yea… Oh dear. She's um, oh look at the time I think my experiment needs air.” She grabbed a rock off the table and fled as fast as her little legs would let her.

That's when he heard it, almost like a caress, full and rich sensual tinged with a touch of Starkhaven brogue. Turning he smiled “Maggie, as I live and breath, the master herself. Let me tell you I had no idea Skyhold had a legend in its walls.” Bending over her hand, caressing it as he turned it over slowly pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. This time, it was his voice that held the seduction. “You, my darling are, a legend that I have woefully neglected, I fully intend to rectify that right now, if you will but grant me the pleasure at the chance.” 

Reaching out he wound a loose copper tendril around his finger and caressed the side of her face as he tucked it behind her ear.

She slapped his hand away “I’m sorry, but I think I heard you wrong, what I thought I heard you say was, you came about an inferior blade, show it to me.” 

Gasping when he unsheathed her work, handing her the sword, cradling it like she would a child, her voice choked with pain “A leanbh what has he done to you? Maker, have mercy.”

Holding it up to the light she saw the blade was bent and pitted with scratches and gouges on it, the grip was filthy, and the hand braided leather dry and cracked. She couldn't even fathom how he had bent one side of the grip so badly. 

Anger flashed in her hazel eyes, making them deep brown, “what have you done, I've made battle axes to fell high dragons that only suffered a quarter of the damage in 3 years what this one has in months. Are you willfully trying to destroy my craft?” 

She knocked the blade off the hilt and tossed the abused metal into the smelting pot, taking a dagger she sliced through the leather grip she had spent weeks on tanning and making soft as a baby's ass, for this arse. Cursing under her breath. 

“So, umm do you have another one that’s better made? Or when will mine be fixed, seeing as you just dismantled it.”

He had to duck, the dagger that flew at his head wasn't meant to kill, but it wasn't meant to miss either. “You arrogant arsehole, cannaugh even fathom the amount of hours that went into crafting that blade? Do you even care? 600, 600 hours went into that. It took me a month of doing nothing but working on it, and only sleeping 4 hours a day. 600 hours and you managed to destroy it in a handful of months, I have to know what were you doing with it? Did you not realize it had an edge and were beating things with your pomell?” 

Stammering he didn't want to answer, he loathed to answer, spotting Varric he looked to the dwarf for help, but the man was sitting there, feet on the railing eating the tiny cakes as he watched the show. 

Licking his fingers, Varric helpfully explained that Ryan had needed kindling one night and used his broadsword like an ax, he was about to tell her the other offenses but... 

Maggie screamed, an honest to Maker scream of terror, shaking her head, pointing her blade at him “No no, Oh maker tell me he's kidding, tell me it was the Elder one, or dark spawn, tell me you didn't use my baby to chop mother fucking firewood you, you Heathen!!! So help me, Maker, for as long as I live, your hands will never touch another one of my blades again.” 

Ryan stood there mad, arms crossed snorting at her statement, right OK drama much, “it's just a sword.” 

Harriet missed the punch he was holding and struck his thumb with the heavy hammer, cursing. 

She looked at him with so much venom in her eyes “Just a sword, it's just a sword. Alright, then you shouldn't have an issue replacing it with one somewhere else. Because I will never strike metal for you again.” 

Laughing Ryan turned to Harrett “Harrett, my good man, I'm in need of a new sword, let's see what you have?”

Maggie turned and pointed her hammer at Harrett leveling him with her gaze, “you so much as repair a tear in this man's sock, and I will take my anvil and leave.”

Blanching he shook his head at Ryan, “I'm sorry Inquisitor but, there is no way I'm willing to incur her wrath, the amount of patronage alone she has, the Inquisition can't afford to lose.” 

He asked all over Skyhold, but word traveled fast, he asked in Redcliff, and suddenly they didn't have any stock. 

Storming into the forge room he snatched the hammer out of her hand mid swing. Looking up at him with tired, bored eyes “what is it now?” 

“You have me blackballed from the merchants, I even sent bull in to buy one, and they refused to sell to him saying he might give it to me... How the Maker am I supposed to fight, with no fucking sword?” 

"Poke them with a stick for all I care, or better yet use your silver tongue, maybe they will fall dead at your feet." She poked him in the chest “You will get no blade from me, or anyone who wishes to sell my wares.”

Snatching her hammer back she continued to work as he stood there. 

Every day he came back each time begging, filled with promises and oaths, he tried bribes, threats. Eventually, he just came because he didn't know what else to do, he would sit with her for hours trying to convince her to help him or, at least, let him help himself. 

In the meantime he ended up having to use a battered sword Cullen used for new recruits, even then it was begrudgingly given because Cullen didn't want to piss her off. However, he couldn't rightly send the Inquisitor into battle unarmed. Ryan’s best hope was to upgrade looting the bodies.

“A leanbh” (uh LAN-uv): Literally means “my child.”

The poem was by Christina Rossetti "I loved you first"


	2. I want you, to...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so yea... um, there is plot here sorta

Her head was throbbing, it was the fourth night in a row she woke up feeling like her skull was going to split open. Maggie sat on the edge of her bed fighting the urge to lose the little contents of her stomach on the floor. The sensation passing she knew sleep would elude her again.

 

The nightmares were returning, she was afraid to travel this road again, the last time, the last time she had barely made it through with her sanity intact. 

 

Eyeing the vial of drops wearily, it was the only thing that helped last time but, the cure was almost worse than the ailment. Throwing back the covers she dressed in her leathers, her long red Locks were drawn back in a tight ponytail giving her face an intense look. Chewing on mint leaves, they didn't cure it, but they helped with the nausea lessening the tenacious grip of the headache. 

 

Striding across the courtyard, with only the huge moon as her witness, she readied her weapon taking aim. 

 

Maggie was a woman of undisputed talents with a hammer and forge, her pieces hung on walls as works of art in noble homes. The name was respected, as was the woman who bore it. Kyra Marguerite O’Shea, though she held her secrets, things no one alive had knowledge of. 

 

Slowing her breathing, eyes open, she heard her father's voice in her ear. “Keep your weapon readied, your aim true Kyra my Lass, and neither will fail you, when you have the need.” 

 

Her fingers caressed Bianca’s curves, breathing in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth as her finger slid the trigger back in a smooth fluid motion. As if by will and thought alone, the arrow rocketed from Bianca’s clutches, landing dead center. The bolt had pierced the crimson heart, of the target dummy. 

 

Reloading she did a running tumble firing again, her second shot right next to her first. A couple more tests and she was satisfied the Bianca’s upgrades were successful, Varric would be, please. 

 

Unsheathing a sword she had worked on for the better part of two years. The slumbering dragon in her blood roared to life, bloodlust coursing through her. The weapon was balanced perfectly for her stature, with the ornate hand guard of swirls and filigree the only thing giving it a feminine feeling. The blade, hand folded and carefully shaped. Over 1000 layers ripple across the sharp, honed blade. By the time, you realized how gravely you are wounded, it was far too late. 

 

Rotating her shoulders swinging the weapon, losing herself to the dance she knew well, the metal becoming part of her, her body reacting on instinct. Each step planned calculated, each movement held a purpose.

 

Ryan watched her three nights in a row, working herself to exhaustion. He knew exactly how much she didn't sleep because he was the same, walking the walls, his bare feet padding on the stone. There were times his body would forget it wasn't chained to the floor like a dog anymore. On those nights, he would walk for no reason other than he could.

 

Looking down, one of the barn cats had, had kittens weeks ago, one of the wee ones had taken to following him around but it was too cold for him tonight, so he scooped the little one up and put him in the pocket on his outer thigh. 

 

She could feel someone watching her, like a tickle at the back of her neck, ignoring the eyes she swung the piece with deadly precision over and over. Her arms ached from exhaustion, her chest burned with the effort but she was lost in her head. 

 

The dreams still dancing behind her eyes, she saw the men cutting her family down, smelled the metallic tang of blood so thick she could taste it in the back of her throat. The screams haunted her, with every strike they echoed louder, her mother *thwack* her Sister *thwack* her baby brother *thwack, thwack* 

 

Ryan was jogging towards her, he saw when it went from simple practice to chasing demons. He could see her fighting an imaginary battle, and he didn't think she was winning. Having enough smarts not just walk up to her, he called out. “Maggie!” 

 

Approaching her cautiously, like you would a wounded animal he called out again in low soothing tones. “Maggie, put the sword down Lass, the dummy is but a post, I fear Cullen will worry what foe was unleashed on the wee creature.” Purposely using the brogue of her mother tongue, he hoped it would give her comfort and disguise his voice a little. In her trapped state, she wasn't in control, on the best of days she hated him. He could only imagine what would befall him when she was chasing ghosts. 

 

Her momentum lost, the heavyweight of the sword dragged on her shoulders and they sagged, her eyes still clouded trapping her in her head. Gingerly he took the sword and sheathed it, laying it out of reach before he drew her against his naked chest. He just stood there in the cold, bare feet half naked holding the smith, soft nonsensical sounds purred from his throat, reassurance of safety and soothing words blanketed her. She didn't hug back, but he could feel her body slowly relaxing against him. 

 

Harrett came running across the grounds skidding to a stop when he saw the Inquisitor intimately embracing his niece. Ryan motioned for the man to come closer, when he transferred her to his arms he watched as her walls crumbled. Quietly disappearing when he heard the sobs filled with so much pain, the kinds that come with too much loss, way to young.

 

Sitting on the floor laying back against the pile of blankets he had next to the bed, his mind wandered to the curious woman who wielded so much respect that he couldn't get a sword to literally save his life. Reconciling that image with the vulnerable woman he just left, a soft tugging on his chin piercing had him smiling. 

 

He had forgotten all about his passenger and now the little guy had made it to his quarters, hearing the soft purrs as he curled up in the blankets at Ryan's head the soothing purring sound against his ear and cheek helped him lose himself for a little while. Settling back into the pallet on the floor, praying for a dreamless couple hours.

 

She avoided him for days, embarrassed that he had seen her weak, he made it hard because he kept coming to check on her. Every day, she ignored his questions and attempts at friendship. When she did answer she was rude and ill tempered with him till he gave up and left. 

 

Her dreams drove her to the courtyard again a week later, she was in control, this time, practicing with a barbed and serrated whip. She was working on trying to get the weight of the sand in the grip balanced right. When he approached she knew he was there, she could feel his presence. When he wouldn't go away, she spun whip in hand. “WHAT!”

 

Stifling her shocked gasp behind her hand, here was the leader of the mighty inquisition naked save for his manhood wrapped and secured for modestly, skin oiled to a magnificent bronze color, a jeweled leash hooked into the ring in his chin. 

 

Knees pressed into the dirt forehead pressed to the ground arms extended to her with the leash a sign of submission from a slave, he was giving himself to her. For what purpose she had no idea, but here he was in complete submission, the silver scars on his back made her cringe. 

 

The heavy black tattoos she never saw in the day glistened, the scars of so many cuts and lashes that had arbitrarily marred his flesh. Reaching out she wanted to trace each one, remembering herself she pulled her hand back. 

 

Coughing she cleared the cotton from her throat before she could talk “Inquisitor, Ryan… please?” He didn't move. She touched his shoulder and he flinched in anticipation, her mind reeled bile choking her as she realized, he expected her to use her whip on him. 

 

Throwing the offending weapon on the ground in front of him, watching as it pools like a snake about to strike. Leaning down she held the leash he offered, steeling herself for the task. “On your feet!” In one fluid motion like a cat, he stood in front of her, eyes vacant as he stared at a spot above her head, arms behind his back giving her full view of his practically naked body. Shakily trying to take control, she demanded. “Explain yourself?”

 

His eyes dropped to her toes as he addressed her “I have offended you, I have tried all the conventional ways to apologize to you, and nothing has worked. The only way I know how to make things right is by offering you my flesh for whatever purpose you have. I need you to forgive me, I have no idea why but this rift between us weighs heavily on me. Whatever you need of me, demand of me, I will become.”

 

Shaking her head, she didn't believe him, “what if demanded your flesh, replace my target dummy as I balance this whip?”

 

Ryan dropped to his knees, holding his arms out presenting his back to her, the faint green glow from his hand flared. "As you wish."

His back was a road map of marks, her own bluff would be called before his was.

 

She still didn't pick up the whip, walking in front of him expecting to see just how far she could push before he protested. “What if asked you to service me with your mouth?” 

"As you Wish."

His hands went to her belt, she could feel his breath on her skin when he pushed her tunic up. Need flaring in her, before she could reconcile what she was asking for, panic set in and she stepped out of his grasp. 

 

His hands falling to his sides as he resumed waiting for instruction. Thinking to humiliate him, she smiled at her next demand, there was no way a proud man like Ryan would ever... “What if I asked you, to fist your cock, pleasuring yourself as I watch.” 

"As you wish."

Her breath caught when he released himself, his cock filling his hand. Kneeling before her naked, thighs spread. She couldn't help but admire his body, the hair around his cock was gone, just like his chest and head. His body was completely smooth, she knew she should stop him, but watching his slick flesh slipping through his hand, watching this beautiful man bring himself pleasure simply because she wished it. 

 

Feeling bold she even regulated his speed, telling him faster slower, watching his chest heaving trying to control his release. His eyes finally darting to hers pleading, “I beg you, grant me release Mistress.” 

 

Lost in her own daze, her eyes fixed on his hand stroking his flesh, she didn't understand at first. When his words saturated her brain, she whispered “cum.” 

 

Watching as his body shook, rocking on his knees in the dirt of the practice ring thick ropy blasts shot out of his cock, landing in the dirt at her feet. 

 

She didn't know what overcame her, but she couldn't help herself. Watching his seed spilled into the dirt and the glisten of it on his hand and tip, she reached out swiping her finger through the sticky fluid. Bringing the tip of her coated finger to her lips, closing her eyes when his taste hit her tongue. It was his moan that had her eyes snapping open, shattering the fog realizing where they were, even in the middle of the night people could still see them. 

 

He watched as she turned and bolted disappearing into the night. Standing he brushed off his knees snatching her weapon she had forgotten in the dirt. Not bothering to rebind his cock he strode from the practice ring though the main hall towards his apartments. 

 

Those who saw him, were more than a little shocked, the offers to warm his bed filtered to his ears, making him harden, his body complying with voiced desires, it was a physical reaction from years of service nothing more. 

 

Ignoring the requests he bounded up his stairs, when his eyes fell upon his bed, visions of Maggie’s red hair fanned out against the covers as he claimed her had him fisting his cock again.

 

For the first time in his life he desired someone, he wasn't told to desire her, he wasn't forced or demanded that he service her. 

He genuinely wanted to fuck her, beyond that he had no idea how a relationship worked, or even what to do in one. He needed some help, dressing he put his leather cuffs on hiding his tattoos, pulling on breeches and a tunic covered the rest. Hoping the Mage was up, he headed to the library.

 

Maggie had barely closed her door, barring it, afraid yet at the same time hoping, he would follow her. 

 

Ripping her tunic, in the process of trying to shed her clothes, falling back on her bed, her legs splayed open lewdly. The chill in the night air shocking her slick hot center. 

 

Fingers curving into her wetness, the same ones she had touched him with, a delicious naughty thrill that his passion was mixing with hers, rubbing her clit furiously, eyes squeezed shut trapping the images of his naked body in a release. Ryan’s name ripped from her throat as her body shatters, thighs shaking, her release crashing into her.

 

******

 

Every time the door to the forge opened her eyes darted to the entrance, she didn't know if she was praying it was, or wasn't him. She didn't see him for close to a month, he was out on a mission. She had found the whip coiled on her bench the gold jeweled lead wrapped around it, the morning after their meeting in the practice ring. 

 

The offer unmistakable, she secretly wore it around her waist the clasp hanging down under her clothing. Something about the intimacy of it against her flesh, her dirty secret. The clasp that attaches to his lip, stimulating her tender heated flesh whenever it swung against her as she moved. 

 

He arrived home in the middle of the day when word came that they had returned, she found herself needed in the main hall for a reason she couldn't think of. His eyes found hers as he strode through the room, covered in dirt, blood, sweat, she tried to search him for injuries but his armor hid any well. 

 

Mentally berating herself for even caring, then scolding herself for making him wield a piece of garbage as a sword because her pride was wounded.

 

She was about to approach him when a nobleman's daughter pressed her body into his and not so subtly caressed his cock, rage she had never felt flooded Maggie, she had to leave before the beautiful girls hand was separated from her arm. 

 

Leaving, Maggie missed Ryan disengaging himself from the girl, putting her in her place. When he searched for Maggie again she was gone, he had brought her gifts, but first he needed to wash off the gore and smell of horseflesh. 

 

Time got away from him, and the day was over before he knew it, not wanting to disturb her if she was asleep he made his way to the practice ring pulling his shirt off the bandage covering his stitched wound glowed in the moonlight. He was alone in the courtyard when he began practicing his moves.

 

He couldn't hold back the smile when he heard her voice “You drop your left shoulder every time you come in, that's why you get hacked up on your right.” 

 

He turned and grinned at her, “Hello Mistress.” dropping to his knees, he held his arms out. “What do you wish of me?” 

 

Her mind reeling at the images that had invaded her dreams the last month. “Oh for fuck sake get up, and cut the shit! You are not my slave.”

 

Standing he reached up to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “For you, I would do it willingly.” 

 

Catching his hand she looked up at him shocked her mind begging him to kiss her. Opening her mouth to make her plea all that came out of her traitorous mouth was venom “why? Wasn't the harlot that was pawing at you upon your return good at sucking cock, she was definitely willing.” 

 

Chuckling his thumb caressed her cheek “Maggie if I didn't know any better I would swear you were jealous?” 

Snorting in defiance “Jealous of what? Some trollop bedding a blood and pleasure whore?” 

 

As soon as the words left her mouth she wanted to eat them, Ryan looked like she had struck him. 

 

Nodding he picked up his things “I see, well I won't bother you anymore, good night Miss O’Shea.” She grabbed his arm attempting to apologize, “Ryan, I didn't mean…” 

 

He held up his hand, “it's OK, you only speak the truth, thank you for reminding me of my station.”

 

She watched him disappear into the night, looking to where his stuff had been he had left something behind, it was the little cakes from Orlais she loved.

 

*****

 

Three days she waited, hoping he would come to the forge, but he never did. Finally, she found him in the middle of the night a target dummy set up in a secluded spot away from prying eyes, away from her. 

 

She approached him, prepared to beg forgiveness. He hadn't noticed her approach yet, slicing through the flesh of the target dummy, she heard him curse and throw the crappy blade. Running his hands over his face and head, threading his fingers behind his neck in frustration looking up at the night sky.

 

“I know you're there, have you come to tell me how I'm failing as the Inquisitor, about how a better man would have saved them, their blood staining my hands because I'm a fraud. Or how my team carries me and is the only reason that I'm alive. Or, would you like to discuss how I have to scavenge for shitty weapons because I can't get anyone to fucking make me a blade that doesn't warp from demon blood.” 

 

His chest was heaving and he was towering over her. “Or should we talk about how, I can't get you out of my fucking head, the jokes on me. The one person I genuinely want to share my body with and she thinks I'm a whore.” Leaning in, his face inches from hers, breath hot on her face. “Fucking run little girl, I'm in no mood for your ice queen barbs today.”

 

She grabbed his arm “Ryan, I.” 

 

Pulling his shirt over his head, “Save it, you spoke the truth. Never apologize for speaking the truth.” Once again she watched him walk away from her into the night, this time, he left no treats.

 

He was in the War room with his counsel, he was shouting about something his mood had been shit for weeks. Cullen was on the verge of decking him when she opened the door and they all turned to look at her. “If I may interrupt, I would request a moment of your time, alone, Inquisitor?” She stumbled on the last two words.

 

The words to deny her quickly formed on Ryan’s tongue. He was cut short when Cullen threw his hands up, “Yes please, talk some sense into him, or run him through either way right now works for me.” 

 

Glaring at his Commander, he watched the three scurry out like rats. Throwing his marker at the door as it closed, the clattering of it to the floor, was far less satisfying than he had hoped.

 

Ryan’s eyes snapping to her, she swallowed under the trapped intense focus solely on her, second guessing her wiseness of being in here with him.

 

Finally, he shouted “WHAT?” The war table between them.

 

Taking a deep breath, with shaking fingers she slowly undid the laces on her dress, it was only then that he noticed her hair was down unbound, brushed to a glorious copper shine, falling in waves down her back. Freckles splattered across her nose and bare arms, it was the first time he had seen her in anything other than the clothes of her trade.

 

Moving to the other side of the war table, arms crossed as he leaned back resting the back of his thighs against it, watching her fingers intently.

 

When her breasts came into view, he realized she was naked under the dress, his mouth suddenly dry. Watching the gossamer fabric flutter to the ground as she drew it over her head. Standing before him naked, save for his fine gold and jeweled leash around her hips. He watched as she knelt before him pressing her lips to his boots and offered herself to him in submission.

 

Eventually, finding his voice, “Maggie? What is this?” her forehead pressed to the stone she spoke “I spoke without caution or care, out of jealousy and my own fears. I will make the same pledge you once gave me. I have offended you, I know not how to apologize to you. So I will do it the only way I know how, by offering you my flesh for whatever purpose you have. I need you to forgive me.”

 

Moments ticked by it felt like hours to them both, as he contemplated the cream pale flesh at his feet, the smell of her arousal filled his lungs. His mouth watering to taste her. Ultimately, making a decision he demanded. “Stand!”

 

She obeyed, lifting her chin his lips feathered over hers barely a whisper of a kiss. His fingers skimming her hard nipples. Lifting her to the war table he opened her thighs, taking her hand he placed it on her slick folds not trusting his voice for more than a few words, he used as few as possible “come for me.”

 

Her skin flushed bright red, she hesitated for a second and he was sure she would deny him. But slowly her fingers started moving, leaning back on one arm as her other hand abused her flesh. He was on his knees his breath adding heat to her already inflamed core he was drowning in her scent. 

 

His eyes locked on hers, waiting for the moment, watching her juices pooling on the war table listening to her breathing and gasps. When her soft mewling sounds became less controlled, he shoved her hands out of the way and locked his mouth over her center. His tongue thrusting into her, then quickly moving to her swollen gem. Clamping around it, sucking hard flicking it with his tongue. Falling back against the table as she shattered, her juices flooded his mouth. 

 

Standing between her thighs, his body dwarfing hers as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him tight against her. Her hands on his face as he claimed her lips, she could taste herself on him, his tongue thrusting into her. Breaking the kiss needed more, wanting to feel him inside her, “Tell me, tell me, Ryan, what do you wish of me, Maker name it and it's yours.”

 

Rocking his hips against her, his bulge pressing into her sensitive flesh, his hands on either side of her head, pressed flat on the slick war table. 

 

His tongue lapping at her lips nipping biting claiming “I… want.” 

 

He sucked on her bottom lip, his one hand leaving to touch her heated core stroking her to the edge of release “You…” 

 

She was lost thrashing against his hand “Anything, you have me, take me.” Right as she was about to explode around his hand, he stepped back. Her head snapped up at the loss of his touch, looking at him questioningly. 

 

“I want you, to teach me to make weapons.”

 

Blinking she looked at him her thighs still open holding her on display, her core throbbing painfully. “What?”

 

Grinning at her he handed her, her dress waiting for her to pull it over her head he snatched her off the table and kissed her hard. “If you won't strike metal for me, give me the ability to do it myself. Teach me your art.”

 

All she could do was nod. Watching as he turned and left her sagging against the war table.


	3. Confessions in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is so little plot here its porn... dirty, dirty porn

Cullen’s head snapped up, rising up from the corner of Josephine desk, Watching the very pissed off Blacksmith storm through from the war room. Was she re-tying the laces on the front of her dress? Cullen watched Ryan just behind her jogging behind her to catch up, he looked in somewhat of a better mood than twenty minutes ago.

 

Ryan followed her out to the main hall, when she turned to head to her rooms he caught her arm “Where are you going?” Looking up at him incredulously she snatched her arm away in a hiss whispered, “Now? You want to start learning now?” His nod only made her growl in frustration, shaking her head no. “Meet me at the forge, tonight after dinner for now… For now, I can't even look at you. I need to go, change.” 

 

When she turned to leave, he caught her arm again tugging her back against him whispering into her ear. “Remember to scream my name at least twice, and if we time it right, we can shout each other's names together from our rooms.”

 

Her mouth hung open, watching as he walked away headed in the direction of his rooms. She would have called him an arrogant bastard if that wasn't exactly what she had planned on doing.

 

Standing in his rooms, barely up the stairs before the clothing was ripped from his body. Holding onto the ornate bedpost as he fisted his cock furiously, it had been almost a year since he had lain with anyone, he needed to either take Maggie soon or find someone else to ease his need, he couldn't keep doing this. 

 

His head was screaming, well dumb ass all you had to do was thrust into her, and we wouldn't be here like a chantry brother, spilling seed into a towel. Squinting his eyes shut his fist pumping harder, the skin of his cock slick with pre-cum, gasping he pitched forward. Fingers locked around the thick bedpost with one hand, his hips snapping in rhythm into his other. The fire in the pit of his stomach roared, giving himself over to it, he pictures her naked breasts. Erupting into his hand, her name screaming in his thoughts his cry of release filled the room. Resting his head against the hand on the bedpost he laughed wondering if she had thought of him, or someone else, just to spite him. 

 

When she returned from dinner he was sitting waiting for her, she wanted to swallow her tongue he was so fucking beautiful, his leather breeches straining over his thighs. It was unfair how the material cupped his ass, his chest and arms bare, save for a leather apron he’d found somewhere. He was ready to learn, when all she wanted to do, was run her tongue over him. 

 

Smirking at him, her arms crossed, “and just what do you plan on doing half naked?” She held out her covered arms. “You think I wear this because I'm cold in here?” 

 

Pushing off from the table he was lounging against, moving close to her, she could smell the mixture of leather and some kind of oil she couldn't place. Whatever it was, Maker, it worked for this man. “Can't handle me being uncovered?” His lips so close she could feel them as he spoke, his hand on her hip she could feel the heat rocketing to her core. "Did my name taste delicious on your lips? Yours coated my tongue, much like I imagine your juices would."

 

Placing her hands against his chest, shuddering at the hardness, two could play this game. Grinning up at him “You asked me to teach you, if you need me to teach you to make weapons fine, I will show you how to make them hard, strong and able to slice into flesh with a simple thrust. If you want me to teach you to fuck, I can do that too.”

 

He couldn't hold back his laughter. “Oh, I think the instruction on weapons will be just fine for now.”

 

She started off with the explanation of the why, why she did the things she did to the metal, why she used some, and not others. It was close to two weeks before she even let him pick up a hammer, and strike his first blow. He was a good student when he really focused, he absorbed any knowledge she wished to gift him with, picking things up quickly. 

 

To her credit she was a very good teacher, her passion for her craft shone through, making him respect her talents even more. He could see why she was as good as she was, She really loved watching the weapon come to life in her hands, was almost giddy about it.

 

Holding up something she had been working on for a while, he interrupted her “why do you call them pieces and not swords or daggers or weapons.” 

 

Her face fell a little making him want to eat his words for stealing the joy in her eyes. “Well, I'm not a fool, I know what they are meant for, but It would be hard to create something knowing it was going to take lives, innocent or not. When I first started making things I did it with such gusto that often times customers would comment. “Och Maggie Lass, I cannaugh use this for fighting, tis far too beautiful.” So now I make everything as if it were a work of art. In my mind, if I make everything beautiful, it just might not get used as a weapon.” 

 

Nodding he hugged her into his side, “You're a woman of exceptional talents and a big heart my dear, you should let people see it more often.” 

 

Word spread quickly that the Inquisitor was learning to become a blacksmith. Soon people were “casually” coming by the forge room to see. 

 

Looking up from his whetstone, when the door closed behind the latest visitor to just stop by. “Is it just me, or have we garnered a fair amount of foot traffic in here as of late?” 

 

Nodding to him as yet another giggling chambermaid stopped by to see if they needed anything. “Well if you insist on being half naked most of the time while in here, then yes people are going to gawk, honestly it's like you have some medical ailment towards clothing.”

 

He didn't meet her eyes as he spoke, the mirth was lost in his tone “Well that's because I spent the majority of my life wearing very little when your body isn't your own, you don't get the gift of modesty or privacy.”

 

Blushing, her hand stopped mid-air she realized what he was implying, and how easy it was to forget the rumors. “I uhh, I'm sorry Ryan.” 

 

His signature grin snapping into place, “It’s all good, that seems like a lifetime ago, so My studious teacher, what is your story? I've asked but it's like you sprouted out for the ground one day, You're not a demon are you?” 

 

Maggie was quiet for a moment, they had forged a friendship these last few weeks, but was she ready to tell someone else about her past? Was she ready to open that door, even her uncle  
Herrett  
who took her in after it happened didn't know the full story.

 

“I uhh, I went through a reinvention of myself, when I was about 13. I, well it was a hard time and I don't like to think about it.” Distracted and clearly distressed, she seared her thumb on a hot piece of metal. Screaming more in frustration than the pain, she was used to the kiss of hot metal. “Maker Damn it!” 

 

Snatching a semi clean cloth, Ryan quickly dunked it in a bucket of cold water, tugging on her hand he wrapped the cloth around it, she wouldn't meet his eyes and he feared he had pushed her too far into, too dark of places. 

"I know you don't sleep well, I know this because I find myself in the same predicament most nights and see you. You don't have to tell me a damn thing Maggie, but you also don't have to carry this burden alone. Maybe, maybe we can both carry a little for each other.”

She still didn't meet his eyes, tears were threatening hers and she would not cry in front of this man. He kissed her thumb like a mom would and patted her hand leaving quietly. 

 

Hours later his words still ringing in her ears, she had avoided him like a coward for hours, could she let him in? Should she? She already had feelings for the man, if things happened to him… Falling into her bed she would talk to him tomorrow, tomorrow they would talk. 

 

He was late today, he was never late. By midday meal, she was worried that she had offended him. Seeking him out, Skyhold seemed empty somehow, standing in the middle of the main hall she overheard words that made her blood run cold he was marching on adamant. Cursing under her breath, she was sending him to face crazy ass wardens with a shit weapon, if anything happened to him it would be her fault, her and her damn pride. 

 

Every night she was plagued with his screams, sometimes they were his, sometimes they were hers. Every night she was forced to watch him fight, seeing him curse her with his last breath, watching him get cut down because his weapon had failed him. 

 

The blood on her hands was thick in her dreams, choking her awake. The reports were horrible, they came in trickles not being part of the need to know group she had to rely on whispers and rumors. When words like “lost in the fade,” were tossed around by more than one set of lips, she couldn't help but believe them. That night she couldn't sleep, guilt and pain wracked her soul, quietly she snuck into his room and laid on his bed. Secretly making deals with every god she could think of, for his safe return. 

 

It was weeks of torment before word finally came they were on their way back, she waited every day, looking for them. Their arrival was quite somber, she tried to talk to him but he just shook his head and retired to his room. It wasn't till later that evening she heard they had left Hawke behind. She wanted to respect his space, but she needed to talk to him to comfort him. She of all people knew the pain of not being able to save the ones you care for. 

 

Slipping into his rooms that night, praying no one saw her in a simple shift and cotton smalls. She was shocked when he wasn't in his bed, she almost left when he called to her from the floor on the far side of the bed, gasping when he lit a candle illuminating his sleeping spot on the stone floor. “Ryan, is there something wrong with the bed?”

 

He shook his head, sitting up the blankets pooling at his naked waist. 

 

"No, it's perfectly fine I suppose, but when you spend all of your adult life only being allowed on a bed when you're fucking its hard to break the mindset." 

 

Rubbing his hands over his head “was there something you needed Maggie? If not, I'm too fucking tired to play this cat and mouse game with you. Please, I” His words cut off when she knelt beside him. Taking his arm she wrapped it over her shoulder, sitting next to him leaning into his side. Before she got too comfortable, leaning forward she blew out the candle pitching them into darkness, confessions were easier in the dark. 

 

“My real name is Kyra, Kyra Marguerite O’Shea. My family was wealthy, landholders, titled even, and my father both financially and politically stood with Prince Vale when he reclaimed the throne. Unfortunately, in the village we lived in, that wasn't a healthy position to take. In the middle of the night, the soldiers came, they held each of us down starting with my parents, they butchered them, I can still hear the screams. I was 13 and they were saving me for other things before they killed me.” 

Ryan’s stomach turned at the thought of what those other things were.

Her voice caught at the memory when strong arms enveloped her she stiffened then melted into them. Kissing her temple he was silent giving her leave to continue. “I was forced to watch as they slaughtered my entire family, they held my head and whispered evil disgusting words in my ear, telling me they would make it worse on my siblings if I fought them. By the time the Prince’s soldiers came, it was too late. All that was left was my baby brother and me. 

 

The soldiers refusing to surrender us, I watched in horror as they quickly slit his throat. I refused to give up thrashing and fighting they didn't have the time to so more than, stab me repeatedly, but by some Makers Blessing, they only wounded me. 

Later as I laid in my bed in my uncle's shack, I vowed I would learn everything I could about every weapon I could get my hands on. I would never be a victim again.”

He tried to pull her tighter against him, but she was moving against him, her hands cupping his face in the dark. “At night I hear their cries I see their faces, and the words of my captors telling me how I wouldn't get off so easily. I had never been so scared until I heard that you were in the fade, part of me wanted to join you. Ryan I.” He stopped her words when his lips crushed to hers, it wasn't the suave coy kisses of a courtier. It was the need of a drowning man, desperate to chase his own fears away along with hers.

 

“Maggie...Kyra, I don’t. If you don’t, I.” She pushed him back onto the blankets “no more words, no more talking. I just… I just need to feel. Please, Ryan, I need you.”

She protested when he pulled away in the darkness, blinking against the sudden candlelight, she looked up at his outstretched hand. 

Taking it, she let him pull her to her feet, his head dipping low to kiss her, his hand cupping her face. Slowly he pulled her to his bed sitting down next to her, this time, It was his turn to stumble on his words. “When I say I've done this, thousands of times, it's not me bragging about my virility it… It’s my confession, I have had sex with hundreds of men and women, been required to do things I disliked pleasing the one who held my leash. Maggie, I choose for the first time to share my body with you, and in a world where I thought I would never have that choice it scares and excites me. I just wanted you to know that.”

 

Laying back on the bed together, his hands on her hip slowly they started to kiss, his lips caressed hers, gently moving over them, tasting hers. She nipped and licked at his, her hands running over his naked back, he still had a blanket wrapped around his waist but the fact that he was deliciously naked under it, had not gone unnoticed.

 

They kissed for so long, both their lips swollen and sore. The evidence of his arousal was pressing into her hip, she could feel how slick her other lips were in anticipation. Rolling over the top of her, the blanket separating them but the movement left his ass deliciously uncovered, as he pressed himself against her core. Like floundering teenagers, he pushed against her, his lips and tongue mimicking the movement, but frustratingly were the only things inside her body. 

 

Her fingers caressed the smooth skin of his head, feeling the weight of him on top of her, she had thought his size would be oppressive, but was instead, it was delicious. 

 

Her one leg wrapped around him, returning his thrusts, panting with need, she had to break the kiss and grind harder against him. Their actions had pushed the blanket up, and it was his flesh rubbing against her smalls, her juices and his, soaking the tortured fabric. 

 

Taking her hands in his, he kissed the inside of each wrist and pinning them over her head, raising himself over her more his hips snapping into hers, the friction was making them both crazy. Maggie’s head fell back, Ryan’s teeth and lips were at her throat. Whispering pleading with him “Rip them off me, slid them to the side go through them, I don't care, but I need you inside me.” She could feel his chuckle against her pulse. Leaning on the arm that still held her hands captive, he shifted opening her more to him, tugging the blanket from between them the barrier gone. 

 

Desire flashed in his red eyes, making her shiver with the intensity of it. His hard length was pulsing against her cotton covered soaked lips, his juices adding to her own. 

 

He studied her face, watching her as his finger slipped the drenched fabric aside, with a tug the offending garment yielded to him. Sliding his hips back, he opened her slick lips, she was vibrating with need, when he slid forward it wasn't into her, but against her. 

 

The tip of his cock pressing into her clit with each thrust. The rich baritone of his voice saturated her sense, he whispered words of passion, letting her see herself through his eyes. Her swollen love stung lips, the flush against her heaving breasts, the way her flesh felt against his, the curve of her hip, the lushness of her body how he wanted her, needed her. Every time his length slid back, it grazed her opening, each thrust held the promise of his entrance. 

 

She was so close, she was chasing her release the tingling in the tips of her toes quickly caught fire and roared through her, clinging to his arms, her back bowed off the bed, his expert hands with a feather touch, ran down the center of her body, adding to the riot of sensations assaulting her at once. 

 

His name shouted in prayer, with his relentless thrusting against her clit giving her no quarter, it wasn't until he was sure she was finished that he stopped. His cock was so full and tight he was sure the skin would split, Maggie could feel his mouth against her skin, his breath coming in pants, making her nipples hard.

 

It was her turn to help him find his pleasure, kissing the top of his head, not use to the silken words one spoke in such moments she floundered a little “Your penis feels very good against me.” Internally she groaned hearing her words. She could feel him smile, which only made her humiliation worse. 

 

Her brain was screaming “think of something sexy you dummy.” Floundering, he took mercy on her. Laying on his side, Ryan took each of her hands and kissed every knuckle, his voice a caress “Do you trust me?” Watching the fire blaze in her eyes, he could only imagine his were doing much the same. Waiting for her answer, wanting permission for what he wanted to do next. Her traitorous tongue wouldn't move, forcing her to nod, helplessly.

 

The flash of steel had her gasping, it was one of hers, she would know her work anywhere. “Where did…” Maggie’s words were cut off when the flat of the dagger's blade is pressed to her lips. “Before you ask, no I did not kill the man for it. When I was in a little fishing town, I saw it on a nobleman's hip. I paid him 6 times what he had originally. And I've hidden it from you for months, tonight will be the first time I've used for anything other than my good luck charm.”

 

Ryan couldn't help but smirk, as she eyed him warily, leaning in he tugged her ear with his teeth, purring “you have far too many clothes on.” They both watched as the jeweled dagger disappeared under her shift, she had to stifle a gasp when it reappeared between her breasts. Holding her breath she watched the tip slice through her shift with seemingly little effort, slowly the cloth parted displaying her to him. 

 

Laying the flat of the blade close to her wet center, his eyes held hers, his nostrils flaring. His finger slid through her wet lips, he could feel her juices escape when he parted them. With a flick of his wrist she hadn't even noticed the dagger was still in his hand, she felt the cool air on her suddenly exposed flesh. Watching as he returned the dagger to its sheath, she couldn't help but notice the care he took with her work.

 

When his lips touched her exposed center, his fingers digging into her thighs as he held her open, all she could do was let go and feel. Feel the flat of his tongue slicing through her wetness, feel the fire raging through her body making every muscle in her clench as her orgasm was ripped from her with his wicked tongue, he was relentless with his attention to her, her thighs slick with her juices as he drank her in over and over. Just when she was sure she couldn't take one more release he took her higher and his name screamed in pleasure was his reward.

 

Finally, he slid next to her his tongue thrusting into her mouth, mimicking its attentions other places, she felt decadent tasting her cream on his lips, the wetness of his chin pressing against her jaw.

 

His cock was laying against her thigh, feeling brave she reached out and caressed the smooth flesh, it felt softer than she expected. Before she could do much more than a gentle caress, he snatched her hands, hissing as if her touch burned. 

 

Her hands once again pinned above her head, stammering an apology, “I... I’m sorry, it’s just.” Ryan’s lips silenced hers. Kissing her breathless was easier than explaining he was about to cum in her hand.

 

Releasing her hands he backed off a little, looking down into her face, her name whispered in need, a question he needed an answer to “Maggie?” 

 

Free to caress the side of his face, looking up at him, was that doubt that flashed in his eyes? It couldn't be, this was a man built for sex, literally, his life up until the inquisition had been nothing but sex, yet, still he needed her approval. 

 

Swallowing past the cotton her mouth seemed to suddenly be filled with, her fingers ran over the smooth plains of his chest, tugging on the pierced nipples. Eyes barely able to meet his, she was so embarrassed by her inexperience, all she could do was a nod.

Taking control again, his tongue ran over her lips, a hand raised her chin making her look at him. “I need to hear the words, Mon Cheri. Tell me, tell me you want me.”

 

His fingers were driving her crazy, she couldn't string two words together let alone an entire sentence. He was right at her entrance all he needed to do was flex his hips and he would be seated inside her. Frustration boiled in the pit of her belly she could feel the heat rising but it wasn't enough she needed more, she needed him. 

 

If he didn't have her so worked up she would call him an ass and leave for teasing her like this, his mocking lopsided grin as his fingers circled her clit slowly, too slowly to take her over, more pressure, she needed it harder. Writhing against his fingers he kept her at bay. In her frustration she snatched the back of his head and pressed her forehead to his, looking into his eyes as she hissed the words “Fuck me, Ryan.” 

 

He couldn't fight back the moan when his entire body shivered at her words, it was like they were suspended in her plea one moment, the next her world went white with pain. His hips snapped forward hard into her, ripping through her barrier seating himself fully in one stroke. He was stretching her abused swollen flesh over his shaft, she was so tight he could feel her pulse in her walls wrapped around him. Through sheer will alone he held still when everything in his body wanted to drive into her over and over. Her virginity had been a surprise, not that she had lied, but, he had never thought to ask, he should have asked. 

 

Slowly he started to move, her body was built for him to worship, luscious curves to hold on to, instinct took over and she began to move against him urging him deeper, harder and faster. 

 

Raising a thigh over his shoulder, he slid in just a little deeper, that simple shift drove her over the edge, her cries echoed off the walls of his chambers. It was a sound he would never tire of hearing he needed more, it made him relentless driving into her further, making her ride through two and three more before his rich voice joined hers in rapture. 

His cock filled her belly, pumping his seed deep inside her. Before he could collapse on her, he rolled them over, she was still impaled on his cock, twitching in aftershocks deep inside her. Holding her to his chest, both of them trying to breathe, his fingers idly caressing her naked flesh. He didn't know what this was between them all he knew is he wanted more and prayed she did too. 

 

Slowly their bodies slowed down, and he slid out of her, this was the part he was unfamiliar with. The part he was unsure of, in the past he was just dismissed or the patron left him, never did they spend the night unless it was in the service of their pleasure. Holding her to his side, he kissed the top of her head and tightened his arms around her. 

 

Blowing out the candle, taking a page from her book earlier, confessions were always easier in the dark. He held her tight to him, searching for the words. Finally, he cleared his throat and began. “Maggie I, don't know what this is, you, you surprised me. I wasn't looking for anything and then in the middle of this shit storm, there is this sassy, infuriating, stubborn, Intelligent, sexy, magnificent woman who for some fucked up reason deemed me worthy of a gift I couldn't even begin to repay, I want you to know that this, whatever this is, that's happening between us. Is new to me too, but it's more than… Well, it's just more than I've ever had so thank you.”

 

He waited for her to say something, his arm tightened around her, that’s when he heard the telltale sound of deep breathing of sleep. Smiling in the dark, he just shook his head and pulled the blankets over them holding her tight, it was a night of first for them both. 

 

Kissing her again “Sleep well, Mon Cheri.”


End file.
